


Back Row

by Rizobact



Series: Curb Finds [9]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Established Relationship, Fingering, M/M, Semi-Public Sex, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, Temperature Play, Tumblr Prompt, medic hands
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-14
Updated: 2016-02-14
Packaged: 2018-05-14 02:06:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5725708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rizobact/pseuds/Rizobact
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Drift and Ratchet wind up together at the back of the theater. Ratchet decides to take advantage of the opportunity - and of Drift, too!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Back Row

**Author's Note:**

> For the nsfw sentence starter prompt on tumblr: "Someone's going to catch us; get your hand off my crotch!" with Drift/Ratchet. This is the extended version of the original post, since I had several people express interest in seeing more of it XD Thank you for your enthusiasm!

“Ratchet! What are you doing?” Drift’s hissed exclamation was almost subvocal, but the medic had no trouble hearing him, if the slight upward tick of his mouth was any indication. Drift shifted restlessly as the hand in his lap moved again.

The two were sitting together at the back of the room for Movie Night ™. Ratchet had arrived just as the lights were going down, by which point all the preferred seats in front had been taken. The small couch they were currently occupying had been the only place left, and it was only just big enough for the two of them. There had been very little space between their frames once they’d sat down - and what little space there had been was eliminated when Ratchet had veeeeery casually rolled and settled his shoulders, bringing his arm down so his hand rested on top of Drift’s thigh.

Not that Drift had minded! Oh, no! But he had been surprised. He and Ratchet had been together for a while now, but his lover wasn’t usually one for public demonstrations, despite their status not exactly being a secret. The CMO was usually a very private mech when it came to their relationship, but there was no way that had been accidental. When Drift had looked over at him, however, his questioning gaze had been ignored. With a mental shrug of his own, Drift had decided to let it go and not look a gift horse in the mouth, as the human idiom went. If Ratchet was feeling affectionate tonight, he wasn’t going to stop him.

He’d started having trouble dismissing the subtle shifting of that hand on his plating as merely affectionate over the course of the next hour though. Those dexterous fingers had gone from idly tracing the occasional small circle to more frequent, deliberate strokes, and eventually they were running along the edges of his armor, digits curling under occasionally to tug ever so slightly. The cables beneath twitched reflexively in anticipation of a deeper exploration that never came as Drift looked over at Ratchet again only to find his optics firmly fixed on the movie, fingers going momentarily still in feigned innocence.

The instant Drift turned his focus back to the film they started up again, and this time Ratchet slid his hand inward over Drift’s thigh and began a slow, meandering path up towards his interface panel, which was beginning to warm. Drift hadn’t been able to contain his exclamation when he finally made contact and began teasing along the seams. Primus, what had brought this on?!

Ratchet’s only response, other than the small smirk, had been to press even more insistently at his panel while running his thumb along the gap between his pelvic armor and his hip joint. With a soft whimper that was drowned out by the soundtrack of the action flick obliviously continuing in front of them, Drift’s cooling fans kicked on low. “Ratchet!” he repeated insistently. “You can’t - if you keep doing that - someone’s going to catch us! Get your hand off my crotch!”

A reverberating chuckle travelled from Ratchet through Drift. He bit his lip as those questing fingers paused to tap right above where his anterior node lay. Drift shuddered, feeling lubricants gathering behind the now straining panel. “What’s gotten into you?!”

“Nothing.” Finally, a response, though Ratchet was still facing forward, for all intents and purposes completely absorbed in what he was watching. “But give me another minute and there’ll be something in you.”

Drift’s optics shuttered briefly at the words, fans spinning up a notch. “Right here? Ratchet, if anyone looks back here, they’ll -”

“ - they’ll get a better show than what’s up there on the screen,” Ratchet interrupted smoothly, but his fingers paused and he turned to face Drift at last. “Unless you’re not comfortable with it? We can always stop and take this elsewhere. Just say the word.”

“Keep. Going,” Drift ground out through clenched denta, stifling a moan as Ratchet complied and resumed his motions.

“That’s two words,” Ratchet commented, returning his attention to the screen.

A second later there was a burst of coolness as Ratchet dropped the temperature of one of his fingertips, and the point of contrast against Drift’s scorching panel was enough of a shock that he lost focus and it snapped open before he could stop it. Ratchet stroked forward, varying the temperature of his digits as they swept through already slicked folds to tease around the entrance to his valve.

“Remember - no talking during the movie,” Ratchet said blandly, and pushed in.

Drift did his best to comply, but the combination of those warm and cool fingers pressing against his valve lining and stroking over internal nodes made it very difficult. No actual words emerged from his vocalizer, but he couldn’t stop the soft half-moan, half-whine from escaping as Ratchet slowly began mapping out each sensory cluster. He moved with careful precision, continuing to change up the temperature until he’d lingered over every node he could reach.

His fingers returned to normal temperature as Ratchet stopped his gentle exploration to pull back slightly and scissor his fingers, spreading Drift and dragging a knuckle joint along the rim of his valve. Drift tried and failed to keep from getting louder as he moved clockwise, then counterclockwise, back and forth. Fortunately the movie was still loud enough that it didn’t draw anyone’s attention…yet.

Their position side by side on the couch didn’t allow for Ratchet to reach very deep. Drift slid forward in his seat, trying to angle himself so that Ratchet’s fingertips could do more than brush at the second ring of internal nodes. It didn’t help, and Drift saw Ratchet smirk slightly as his fans finally hit their highest setting.

It wasn’t fair! Drift gasped, trying desperately to get more stimulation. It wasn’t enough! He ground down on Ratchet’s hand, the calipers in his valve tightening on the medic’s fingers rhythmically.

_That_ finally got something other than a smug reaction from Ratchet. Drift silenced himself, straining to hear over the roar of his systems and the blaring of the movie when he saw Ratchet biting his lip. He caught the end of a quiet groan just before the medic smothered it. His fingers were still moving, but they weren’t just thrusting anymore. Drift could feel them trembling slightly against the walls of his valve, and his spark spun faster as he realized what was going on.

Ratchet had turned the sensors up in his hands before he’d started this game. He’d been revving himself up every bit as much as he’d been winding up his partner.

Grinning through his next gasp, Drift deliberately cycled his valve down on those digits at the peak of their thrust, rocking again to press them in as far as possible. He turned a breathless smirk on Ratchet as he heard his fans finally come on to join his own. “So you are getting something out of this,” he whispered, remembering the times in the past that he’d brought Ratchet to overload just by lavishing attention on those hands.

“Shh,” Ratchet replied, optics flickering between Drift’s face and the screen. “You’re going to miss the best part.”

“I doubt that,” Drift said shakily. As far as he was concerned, watching Ratchet in the throes of passion was better than any movie.

Ratchet must have been thinking the same about Drift, despite how he continued to feign interest in the film. His fingers resumed their activities, clearly intent on bringing Drift to his climax. He drew them in and out, pausing to circle and rub against Drift’s exterior node before plunging back in, triggering internal microtransformations in his hands to make his fingers vibrate above and beyond the tremors already running through them.

Drift’s helm fell back, optics flaring brightly with excess charge as Ratchet brought him swiftly to the edge. He tried to reciprocate, to do more to increase the pleasure for Ratchet, but he couldn’t control his reactions enough to manage anything coordinated. Ratchet didn’t seem to mind, however. Going by the increased pitch of the ambulance’s deceptively powerful engine, he was enjoying Drift’s involuntary movements plenty.

Neither of them was going to last much longer, Drift was sure. That was probably a good thing, since he had no idea how much of the movie was left. Not much, he guessed. He tilted his helm to look at Ratchet and was surprised to find him actually watching him back this time, optics intent and shining.

“Drift,” Ratchet asked, sounding a little ragged. “Can you stay quiet?”

“I-I..don’t…think…ahh!” Drift gasped, not sure it mattered. He was _so_ close, he was _right there_ , and he didn’t care if the whole room heard him just so long as Ratchet didn’t stop. “Don’t stop, oh please please please, don’t stop! RA-!”

Leaning in swiftly, Ratchet swallowed his shout in a kiss as Drift tumbled over. Excess charge blazed through his lines, whiting out his external sensors and narrowing his awareness to the waves of pleasure radiating from his interface array. Drift felt his frame arch away from the back of the couch, hips bucking jerkily as his valve rippled rapidly over Ratchet’s fingers, still lodged deep inside.

That was enough to bring Ratchet over as well. He moaned into the kiss and shuddered as overload rushed through him. Drift whimpered as he felt those fingers twitch reflexively and bore down on them, prolonging the climax almost into a second, smaller overload for them both as they continued to kiss, passion melting into sweetness before their lips eventually broke apart.

After a long moment of sitting together, silent except for their fans as they continued to dump heat into the room around them, Drift finally found his voice again. "Did anyone hear?” he whispered. He felt too drained to look, slumped back against the couch with his helm leaning against Ratchet’s.

“The movie’s not quite over,” Ratchet said quietly by way of an answer, and Drift realized that he could still hear the villain haranguing the hero on the surround sound, their banter barely registering through the post-overload bliss. Gently pulling his hand free with one last shiver, Ratchet pulled a couple of towels from his subspace and handed one to Drift before starting to wipe down his fingers.

“And we missed over half of it,” Drift said, accepting the towel gratefully. Then he smiled meaningfully. “Guess that just means we’ll have to see it again.”


End file.
